A Night Together
by Dragon Of Ash
Summary: Rating to be safe. This is a slash fic, so be warned. Joey and Chandler run into a problem on a date.


Disclaimer: I don't own Friends, and I don't own the characters. I'm just writing this b/c I thought it would be neat.

A/N: I picture this taking place around season 5-6. But, it doesn't really matter.

Chandler Bing looked at his watch and groaned. Another hour and a half till six o'clock and his team was nowhere near finished with the W.E.N.I.S. He was going to be late _again; _Joey was going to kill him! With a heavy sigh, he took out his cell and made the call.

Joey sat at a table the gang had set up on Monica's balcony. It was a beautiful set up: a perfect table for a perfect romantic evening. Flowers and lights hung in streamers suspended from fishing wire tied above, creating a soft glow in that way that seemed to make couples want to draw closer together, and filled the air with intimacy—perfect for a one-year anniversary. Joey, however, was _not _feeling intimate. He was feeling the exact opposite of intimate—bored, with a stiff shot of annoyed thrown in. Joey hated being annoyed, and he _really _hated being bored. Those were the two worse things in the world.

This was the third night in a row, the seventh over all, that Chandler had called and changed plans an hour before they were supposed to meet. And, like always, he would manage to _still _be late. He sighed as he put down the phone and put the wine back in the fridge. "It's gonna take him another hour to get here, better watch some TV."

Chandler rushed into the apartment, breathing heavily. Damn it! He was supposed to have been there half an hour ago! He gave Joey an affectionate kiss, and then collapsed in his chair across from him. "Sorry," he gasped.

"The scallops are warming in the oven, everything else is done." Joey pointed to the salad and steaming soup before them. "When we're done with this, the scallops will be ready."

"How did you...?"

"I've had a lot of practice." He gave a crooked grin. "You give me a time, and I plan for things to be half an hour after you say you'll be there." He shrugged. "It's why I always bring porn or a script to read for our dates."

"Sorry, work held me up. We had to have the W.E.N.I.S. report in first thing tomorrow. Which wouldn't be too bad, but Mark deleted last Monday's data entries, which threw off all of our calculations. And, it added another 3 hours to our workload. I only thought it would take two hours, and I'd be here at eight..." Chandler felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"That's the way it is every time," he sighed.

"But, I'm a manager; it's important." Chandler barely spoke above a whisper. He looked down at this plate and pushed his salad around its bowl with his fork.

"What's more important than meeting your boyfriend for dinner?"

Chandler paused, sweat dripping down his brow.

"This isn't a question that needs a lot of thought, Chand." He laughed, incredulously.

"N-n-no it isn't. Joey, you're important to me, more than work, more than anything." He cupped his hands in his, imploring him not to say the words he knew were coming.

"Aww, c'mon Chand! You hate that job! But, you spend more time there than with me. What am I supposed to think?" He jerked his hands from Chandler's grasp.

"Please..."

"No Chand, no more excuses, no more waiting." He walked over to Chandler's side of the table, and kissed him fondly on the cheek. "Bye, Chandler."

He nodded dumbly unable to form a thought, or chase after him as Joey stepped out of the apartment. He wanted to tell him that he would change, that he would spend the time with him that he deserved. But, the lies would not come. A few moments later, he tossed the roses he bought for Joey into the trash—fat lot of good they did for him. He didn't really like flowers, anyways. He'd have to return the bracelet tomorrow.

He got up and walked over to his apartment, still numb inside. Joey was sitting on the couch, beer in hand. "Can... can we talk about this, Joey?"

"What 'us', Chand? There is no 'us'. There never was an 'us'." He took a long swallow from his beer, and thumped it on the table.

"How can you say that? Everything we've done and gone through—Janice, Kathy, Chloe, Eddy, the Days of Our Lives." Chandler's voice raised several octaves.

"Do you remember how we were in the beginning?" Joey took another sip from his beer. "How you would call off work so we could spend the entire day at the park, or we'd go on those carriage ride things?"

"Yeah..." Thunder boomed in the distance, and the first drops of a large storm pelted the window.

"You used to say that thinking about me was all that got you through the day at that hellhole." His voice was dispassionate, cold, almost. He could have been discussing the weather, or the price of cheese. "You hated every moment there, every moment you spent without me."

"Yeah... Joey, it's still like that."

"No it isn't, not anymore. Everything's changed!" Thunder crashed, rattling the pots in the kitchen, and the sky tore open, battering all of New York with its fury. "You spend all your time at work. You're always late. You cancel every plan we make. You care more about that work than you do me! You're a big CANCELER!"

"No, Joey, hon, that's not true." Chandler moved to wrap him in a hug, but the man stepped away like he was going to be burned.

"NO! You can't make it up this time!" He stood up, pushing Chandler away from him. "It hurts too much. Love isn't supposed to hurt! And, it'll only hurt more if we stay together."

Chandler gaped at him, and he began to feel angry. How dare Joey use his work against him? "What about you and the women?"

"What women?"

"You know... the ones you flirt with at the restaurant, or when we're at the store, or at the set." Chandler put a hand on his hip, and snarled. Joey was cheating on him; that had to be it. That was the only explanation. So what, he was late a few times for a few dates? He had to work late. He was the only one with a steady job.

"Chandler, for the last time! I've _never_ cheated on you! Ever!" He couldn't believe it! Chandler was bringing _that _up again!

"Yeah, well, what else do you call it?"

"_Talking_! I was doing something to keep from being bored until _you_ got to our date, 'cause _you_ were late!" Joey sighed. "I can't stay here. I can't make you love me the way that I love you, the way that you should love me."

Chandler's mind raced, he had to stop Joey. He had to keep him from leaving. "Think about the chicken and the duck."

"Hey! You leave them out of this! You CANCELER!"

"Joey... please!"

"No, Chandler, it's like I said back at Monica's, no more excuses." He brushed passed Chandler, and opened the door. "I'll be back when I'm cooled off. Then, I'll start packing." He shut the door behind him and left the apartment.

A short time later, Monica walked into the guys' apartment, carrying a candle—the power had cut out from the storm a few moments ago.

"Chand, you here, hon?" He made no replay. Not that she expected any. Chandler? I passed Joey running down the stairs, he looked upset."

She heard a match being struck in the far corner of a room, followed by the bright flare of a flame being blocked by cupped hand. Monica stifled a grimace. Smoking, she hated when Chandler smoked. But, whatever happened between them, it must have been bad.

"Chandler?" Her voice quivered in concern, Chandler never bottled things up _this_ much before. He always ended up talking to her.

"He's gone. He left. He said... He said that it would hurt more if we were together; that... That I... I didn't... couldn't love him the way that I should." Chandler's voice was thick with emotion, and Monica nearly gasped, as she realized that Chandler, for the first time since he was nine years old, was crying.

She knelt beside him, placing the candle on the floor in front of them, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Oh, Hon, I don't know what to say... I don't know what to do."

"Make it stop." He took a long, shaky drag on his cigarette, trying to restrain the floodwaters and rebuild the dam he had let break.

"Chand, I can't do that. I wish I could, I really do." She squeezed him tighter. "What happened?"

"I was held up at work... I didn't get here til late." He took another pull on his cigarette, savoring the acrid taste.

"How late?"

"I got home 'bout half an hour ago."

"Ouch. Hell, if you were that late for me, _I'd _break up with you."

"Mon, not helping here!"

"Chandler, you do spend a lot time there, would it kill you to step back a bit, and focus on him?"

"I know! I hate that place!" He buried his face in her chest, drenching her blouse with his sobs. "But, we're just so... I'm scared."

"Scared of what, Hon?" She wrapped her arms around him tighter, letting him cry. "What scares you?"

"He does. We've got this great thing, this amazing relationship, and it frightens me. I don't know what to do. I don't know how to handle it. I just feel so strongly... so intense, that I gotta step back." He chuckled ruefully through his sobs. "You know me, afraid of commitment."

"Yeah ya are! You left me for him, after all."

"Again, with the not helping?"

"But, I still love you anyways." She held his face, turning him towards her. "Look, you did this with me, too. You buried yourself in your work. You kept turning yourself off from me, from all of us. Whenever things got intense, you ran—either to work, or to those damned cancer-sticks you like so much." Obstinately he took another puff. "But you have to learn to open up. You didn't with me; maybe you can with him. Please, don't ruin another good relationship. It's OK for you to be happy. And, you are happy, right?"

"Well, yeah."

"Do you love him?" Chandler pulled back from her embrace, unsure of how to respond. Shakily, he brought the cigarette to his lips.

"I... don't know. I think," he puffed again on his cigarette, "I know he made me happy, happier than I've been in a long time. I don't care if he and I are together, or if we're just friends, as long as we're _together_... us, him and me, friends. What the two of us shared... I wouldn't pass that up for anything... But if he doesn't want to give that to me, then, he and I can be friends... that's all." He took another drag, and stubbed out the butt.

"Then tell him that, you dope!" Monica softly smacked him on the back of his head. God, the man could be so dense sometimes! "Find him, and tell him that." Chandler nodded, and with a growing resolve, rushed out of the apartment.

The rain fell in sheets, as Joey walked down the street, head down, hands in pockets. He needed to leave, to get away. They had tried; they failed. _He_ failed. It wouldn't work, couldn't work.

Chandler searched all over the streets. He had no clue where Joey might go, but he figured left was as good as right. After a few blocks, he saw a man in a black suit walking in the rain. "JOEY!" The man paused, and the world was silent but for the pounding of the rain.

"Look, I know think you'll hurt me. You said that I'm no good for me, that I would hurt you, like I always do, only there wouldn't be anyone to pick up my mess." He sighed. "I've tried living safe: I ate right, I exercised, and I dated safe people, people who I couldn't get attached to. People who don't want to see anything, or get anything more than what they see. And, I dunno, Joe, maybe I will hurt you. Maybe you'll hurt me. But, all I do know is that before you and I were friends, my life was awful... I wasn't very happy. I had a crappy job, and a crappy family, with no real love life or affection. I had friends, but they were an escape, they weren't life. You come, and... And suddenly I'm alive... Nothing makes sense, nothing works out, but you... you make it bearable... You make it ok. My freelance article was accepted in the paper today... thanks to you I never would've done it otherwise. But... you... Joey, you're the reason." Chandler raised his hands to the sky, tears freely running down his cheeks. "You make me feel alive! And I know, I know it, just like I know that it's raining right now, that if you leave, I'll stop being alive. I'll go back to that horrible person I was before I met you. We don't have to be together. We don't have to be lovers... We can just be friends, if that's what you want. But, Joey not having you with me would be worse than killing me. Because, what I'd be left with wouldn't be life... it'd be something worse. It'd just be existence, hanging on by a thread, a fingernail, hoping that I'll feel again like how you make me feel."

Joey turned around and... It wasn't him. It was some stranger. Maybe it was just the rain, but it seemed that the man was crying too. "That was beautiful... But, who's Joey?"

Chandler felt like a fool, he'd been yelling through the rain for nothing. He turned around to head home, convinced that he'd missed his chance, and there he was, standing on the sidewalk at a sandwich stall

"You heard?"

"Every word. You should go... I won't change."

"I'm not asking you to." He took a step closer to Joey.

"I don't know if this'll work... how long it'll last, Joey." He took another step. "I can't promise anything. I'm not the model for commitment." Chandler took two steps forward, greatly closing the gap between the two. "I just want what you can give me. I just want to be friends, or more if you'll still have me."

Only a foot apart now, Joey takes the final step into Chandler's arms. "I want you, Chandler, I've always wanted you. It's always been you."

"I meant it all, Joe. I did. You make me happy. You make me better than I've ever hoped I could be."

They stood together, in the pouring rain, and embraced, joining in a kiss. It was not the deep, probing kiss of lust or passion, but the tender and gentle joining of two souls in love.

Up on her balcony, Monica looked down at the couple through binoculars, and silently pumped her arm in the air in victory.


End file.
